The Night Out
by The Sketchywallflowr
Summary: Somehow or another, Elliot has been tricked into going out tonight with the janitor. But as bad as she expects it to be, she isn't quite prepared for what's in store.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a non aurthorized use of the Scrubs characters. I own none of this.

This is the result of a dream I had one night, and it tickled me so, I had to write a fic about it. I'm not sure what season this should take place in, but it's not quite an AU. It is what it is. And Dr. Webber is a character I created for the sole purposes of _deus ex maxhina. _

* * *

"Blonde doctor!" he shouted, snapping his fingers and waving her over. 

Elliot approached cautiously, her eyebrows raised. There wasn't a dead animal in his hand, no visible telltale "x" marked on the floor, and he wasn't smiling with a self-satisfied smirk. In fact, his harmlessness made him all the more frightening. Elliot stopped a few feet before reaching him. "What?" she asked, trying to sound impatient, hoping that her nervousness didn't come through. She was a strong, independent woman, and she knew it. But that didn't make the janitor any less scary.

"I have a thing tonight," he informed her matter-of-factly. "Top secret, can't disclose information about it."

Elliot waited patiently for more to come, but it didn't seem to be. Nodding politely, she said "Okay... sounds like fun." Still, he said nothing. Now actually impatient, Elliot turned on her heels and started away.

"I'll give you fifty bucks to go," the janitor called behind her.

That stopped her, and a few other doctors who were passing by, on the spot. Elliot spun back around, put out and very confused. "Did... did you just offer me fifty dollars to go somewhere with you?"

"Okay, seventy-five," he conceded, snapping a crisp hundred dollar bill in front of her.

She pointed at the bill. "But that's a hundred."

"Yeah, well, I need change."

Baffled, Elliot rolled her eyes. "But that's not the point!" she squeaked. "I am not a hooker, I'm not gonna let you pay me to go out with you tonight."

"Okay then, I won't pay you. Meet here at seven?"

She had to think about it a moment. "Wait, I didn't agree to-"

"You just said I _couldn't pay you_ to go," Janitor informed her. "Which indicates you're willing to go for free."

Dr. Cox, feeling full of himself as usual, hopped up onto the counter of the nurses' station beside Carla and JD. "What's Barbie shrieking about like a poodle?"

"Apparently she has a date tonight," Carla informed him, her voice low but her tone awestruck. "With the janitor."

Perry snorted. "You're kidding."

"Yeah, it was clever," JD informed him. "Tricked her right into it."

"How so?"

"First he called her a hooker, and then she offered her services for free, and he accepted and she doesn't want to anymore." JD paused a moment. "No, there's more to it then that. Something that makes Elliot less..."

"Of a whore?" Carla finished for him.

"Exactly," he grinned.

"I did not say I would go for free!" Elliot cried out, her voice starting to reach that incomprehensible pitch where coyotes would soon start to howl.

"We were negotiating a price before," he reminded her patiently. "But then you said I couldn't pay you, which either means my money isn't good enough for you because you're a doctor and I'm a janitor-"

"No," Elliot interrupted, "I didn't mean that-"

"-or it means you are more than willing to be a free escort for the evening."

"Speaking as the official referee," Dr. Cox announced, "of every situation where Barbie backs herself into a neat little corner, I'm gonna have to judge in favor of Janitor on this one. See, Barbs, you did say he couldn't pay you, which indicated you were willing to go, but the price was still in negotiation stage. If you had not been willing to participate at all, you would have indicated as such with a much simpler 'I am not going', or 'I wouldn't even go if you paid me'."

"He's right," Janitor agreed. "You pretty much signed yourself into a legally binding oral contract."

"But I meant to say I didn't want to," Elliot protested feebly.

"Ah, but what you say and what you mean are apparently two different things. Now I offered money, and being a lady you said no. So, being a gentleman, I respect your wishes and shall let you attend without pay."

She didn't know how, or even why, but sometime in the past five minutes, Elliot had agreed to accompany the janitor on a date this evening. She had no idea where they were going or what she should wear. It was crazy, and she knew it, but somehow or other she had been defeated. "Okay, _fine_," she conceded.

He smiled. "Good. Look nice. He likes his guests to dress up."

"Who?"

Looking solemn, Janitor grabbed his mop bucket and started wheeling away. "I've said too much," he told her.

Elliot, Perry, JD and Carla watched him walk away. "I can't believe this," Elliot exclaimed. "How did he do that?"

"My guess, and this is just a stab in the dark, is that you're easily manipulated, Barbie."

"You know what, Dr. Cox? You're not helping! In fact, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in this mess!"

"You know," Carla said kindly, "you could always just not go, Elliot. It would be pretty fair, seeing as how he sort of conned you into it to begin with."

"Hmm, I don't think so," JD interjected. "I think he'd come to her house and drag her out by now, bunny slippers or not." Eyes glazing over, JD's mind wound itself a pretty tale of the janitor bursting down Elliot's door, tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her out into the night. "Kinda romantic," he crooned to no one in particular.

"Carla," a voice interrupted, "do you have the chart for Mr. Perot yet?"

"Sure, right here." Carla handed a chart to a small, quiet-looking woman in her late twenties. She was petite, curvy, and her name was Dr. Jane Webber. She had been transfered to Sacred Heart (she said) via the witness protection program. No one knew whether or not to believe her, and no one really wanted to ask because, frankly, it was very interesting having someone who was hiding from the Russian Mafia in their hospital. It was even more interesting to watch Dr. Webber's reaction whenever a Russian patient was admitted.

Dr. Cox was grinning like the devil himself. "This is possibly the best moment I've had all year."

"It's not funny," Elliot whined, mostly because she knew if it were anyone else in her position, it would be terribly funny. "What am I supposed to talk about with him?"

"With who?" Dr. Webber asked.

"Janitor," Perry chorlted. "They have a hot date tonight."

Jane nodded, reviewing the chart before her. "About time," she mumbled.

No one knew quite what to say. JD exchanged gloriously scandalized looks with Carla, Perry's eyes lit up like hell fire, and Elliot's face turned a fun shade of paler than paper.

"About time?" Elliot repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dr. Webber's face went solemn. "I've said too much," she murmured, walking quickly away.


	2. Chapter 2

disclaimer: Scrubs was not created by me.

* * *

It had been an epic struggle with her wardrobe. Speaking like one would speak to their troops before storming the beaches of Normandy, Elliot informed her clothing that no matter how much of a good hair day she was having, and despite how great her butt looked today, even if it meant disregarding how perky the boobs were at the moment (curse this day for looking so foxy), she was in no way allowed to be attractive tonight. Maybe pretty, but not too pretty, and certainly not sexy. This was a date against her will, and everyone was fooling themselves if they thought for a moment she would look her absolute best. But she couldn't look like a slob, though. There had to be some effort to prove that the janitor had not beaten her. Yes, sexy strappy heels, she was well aware she already had been beaten, but he wasn't going to do it again. And with an attitude like that, see if she would wear you with your favorite thigh-hugging skirt tonight! But her clothing was being most uncooperative. Some things made her look sloppy, some too chic. Nothing would stay in the middle. She was almost tempted to wear her scrubs because while the light blue ones made her eyes pop, they were shapeless enough not to suggest sex appeal.

Finally, when seven rolled around, Elliot strolled into Sacred Heart, head held high, her shiny blonde hair tied back in a messy bun, silver eyeshadow swept over the baby blues, and a tight thin-strapped cranberry dress loving her curves. Around her shoulders, she held loosely a black silk shawl with pretty clear beads sewn into intricate patterns.

She was met at the door by the ever-grinning Dr. Cox, Carla, JD, Turk, and a few other residents whose shifts had ended long before now. Elliot stopped in her confident tracks. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, though she knew full well.

Perry answered proudly, "Oh, I wouldn't miss this, Barbo. We thought we'd see you off, make sure you kids have fun, get home before curfew, behave youselves." He hopped off the counter and threw an arm around her shoulders. "And doesn't she just look _beautiful_, let's give Barbie a hand, c'mon guys!" The whole room began to applaud, and Elliot imagined them setting themslves ablaze with the friction of their vigorous clapping.

"Stop it!" she hissed. "Carla, why did you tell _everyone_?"

"Why would you think it was me?" Ignoring the smug You-always-tell-everyone-everything look from Elliot, she continued, "I didn't say a word to anyone." What she neglected to mention, though it brought a smile to her face, was earlier that day when Perry had planted himself on the counter and told each patient, staff and unknown hobo passing by about "little Barbie's big night out".

"Well you all need to go, just _go_, okay?" Of course, nobody went. This night was starting out horribly.

When the janitor did arrive, much to Elliot's relief and surprise, everyone disappeared. One second they were teasing her and complimenting her hair, then she saw the janitor coming down the hall and poof- everyone was gone. She looked around, wondering if maybe they were all hidden under the counters, or clinging to the flourescent lights on the ceiling, or maybe they were all in a long line behind the fake palm tree by the gift shop, just out of sight.

Janitor's ensemble was both confusing and quite handsome. He looked smart in a black fedora hat, an ebony silk tuxedo with gold pinstripe, and leather wingtips that shined like starlight. He also carried a cherry wood cane with a big gold knob on top, which brought the reality back into the moment. "You're late," he informed Elliot matter-of-factly.

"...I got here before you."

Pulling a shiny pocketwatch out of his vest pocket, he barely glanced at the time and declared "Let's roll."

"So, where are we going?" Elliot inquired, once they had settled into the back of a stretch limousine. Another surprise for the evening.

"That's classified information."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm already here, you might as well-"

"We're attending a family wedding," he interrupted. "But the whereabouts is confidential."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know where it is."

"Oh, ok..." It felt really awkward just sitting there. She and Janitor had made small talk a few times in the hallways, but they'd never had a real conversation before. At the moment he didn't seem interested in talking anyway, so she looked around the inside of the limo. It was beautiful- tinted windows, runners of lights under the seat, basking the interior in a moon-like glow. A mini bar. "Ooh," she declared, opening the tiny fridge. It was glorious. Tiny bottles of scotch, tiny ginger ales, tiny orange sodas, tiny gins, tiny vodkas, tiny licquers and even tiny cookies. Elliot popped open a small scotch. "You want anything?" she asked.

"Hmm..." he pondered. "Tiny burboun, tiny cookie."

"I feel like a giant," she giggled, handing him his small bottle and even smaller treat. "How do you suppose they got the chocolate chips that small?"

"The chocolate was made by mice," he told her seriously, taking a large sip of the small beverage. Elliot blinked. "Underground factories," he continued. "Millions of mice stirring tiny pots of chocolate. They're the only ones with small enough hands for the job, you know."

Elliot laughed. "I don't think so," she chuckled.

"Fine," he said soberly. "Live the lie."

"Are you being serious?" His face was serious, his voice was serious, but janitor liked to lie a lot.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you," he smiled.

"I figured. I mean, mice? Come on."

"Nope, it's actually squirrels that do it. Mice were unreliable, they got fired in 1993."

And it suddenly dawned on her that it didn't matter if he was lying or not. It was just funny. "Well, let's hope the squirrels don't substitute anything if they run out of chocolate."

Nodding knowingly, Janitor said "That's why the mice got fired."

* * *

The reception hall was the most glorious room Elliot had ever seen in her life. The chandelier was surely made of diamonds it sparkled so brightly, and the candles placed at each table lit up the room like fireflies glowing in a field. The hall was grand and draped in red satin. Everyone milled about in the vast open space, talking and laughing and smiling. It felt like a dream. Everyone was so happy, and the decor was just too brilliant to be believed. Everywhere you turned there was silk and white lily petals and music that danced on the air. Elliot was so enchanted with her surroundings she barely noticed the janitor tuck her arm around his and lead her to the head table.

The bride and groom stared into each other's eyes while family members spoke words of wisdom and encouragement to them, their eyes lined with proud tears. Beside the bride was a wealthy looking man in his late fifties, round and strong and proud. His hair was a mix of gray and black, but more of the former. He had a thick beard that couldn't hide his smile, and his fine silk suit fitted him like a prince. On his left hand he wore two rings, both gold, one with a sapphire and one with a ruby big enough to replace the sun.

"Il mio figlio!" the man declared. "Sono soddisfatto di vederlo!"

"Ed I, Don Luccio," Janitor replied. "La vostra figlia è bella."

"Dicami che cosa non conosco! Ma chi è questa visione dal vostro lato?"

"La mia moglie, Dott. Reed."

Finally, a word Elliot recognized. "Huh? What about me?"

"Introductions," Janitor said patiently. "This is Don Luccio."

"Oh. Hello! Beautiful reception. I feel like a princess! You must have worked very hard on this. Well, not _you_, I'm sure you were busy. N-not to say you couldn't, because I'm sure you're a well-fashioned man. I mean, look at the ring, it just screams "good taste!"." She was babbling and she knew it, but there was no stopping now. "Not that it screams anything, it's very subdued. But noticeable, too, not like you can't see it-"

"Sta affascinando, il mio," Don Luccio smiled. "Ragazzo troppo 'chatty' per me, ma se siete felici. Ed ha mantenuto il suo proprio nome?"

Janitor shrugged. "Donne _headstrong_, che cosa potete fare?"

"Allineare," the man laughed, his eyes twinkling at Elliot. "Vada, mangi, goda! Ballo!"

"Grazie, Don." Gently leading Elliot, the janitor waved at a few people before settling down at a table in the corner.

"You speak Italian?" Elliot asked, fascinated.

"A little," he replied modestly, sipping from his water glass.

"Wow. That was really impressive. So, ah, what did you two talk about, exactly?"

"Just saying hello, congratulating his daughter."

"But what did you say about me?"

"Nothing."

"Then why did he laugh at me?"

"He didn't. He thinks you're charming."

Elliot blushed, pleased as punch. "Aww. But I hardly said anything to him. In fact, I just sort of rambled on about his ring and I don't even know what."

"Yeah, I told him you tend to babble."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did you tel him that? You just saw him right now."

Janitor shrugged. "I've talked about you before."

She wrinkled her nose. "You did? Why?"

He rolled his eyes, obviously about to admit something he didn't want to. "See, if we'd gone about this like business partners, I would have given you all the details. You wanted to take the high road and be a lady, so I left the shady details out of it."

"What shady details?" she demanded.

He looked around, making sure no one was listening in. "I told him you were my wife."

"You... you what? You told him that just now?"

"No, no. Like a month ago when I RSVP'd."

Elliot's jaw dropped. "Oh my... oh my God... how... why did you..." There was no way to complete that sentence properly. "Why would you tell them I was your wife?!"

"Well, not _you_ in particular. I said I was married to a doctor. A small, pretty, blonde doctor." Elliot stared at him blankly. "Named Dr. Reed," he finished.

"Why??"

"It's very complicated."

"I don't care! I want to know-"

"It's not too late to take me up on that fifty bucks," Janitor said smoothly.

Pointing her finger, she hissed angrily "Last offer was seventy-five!"

"Okay, fine. But I expect change."

Elliot held out her hand. "I'll get it to you tomorrow."

"What if you don't?" he asked warily, keeping the hundred in his palm. "What if you never show?"

"Well, I have to go to work sometime. And you're in no position not to trust me!" she snapped. "I could go up to Don Luccio and tell him I'm not really your wife! Then what would your uncle think?"

Janitor chuckled in that way that made Elliot nervous. It made her nervous because whenever he laughed, it usually meant someone was about to get schooled. Or hurt. "First of all, he's not my uncle. He's the Don. We're not related. Second, he doesn't speak English, so unless you find a translator, you'll have a hard time telling him anything. Third, and most important, I have a lot of time on my hands. While you're running through the halls saving lives, I'm thinking. Plotting. Watching." He gave Elliot the fishy eye. Chills went up her spine.

"I want the full hundred," she said at last.

"I have to tip the driver."

"Too bad."

"Okay, you win." He handed her the hundred, watching sadly as it disappeared into her tiny purse.

"I just don't understand why you would tell all your relatives you're married when you're not."

"These people aren't my relatives."

"But... you said we were going to a family wedding."

"We are."

"I assumed you meant _your_ family, not just some random one." Elliot looked around. "Oh my God, did we crash someone's wedding?"

"No, no, it's my family. Just no relatives."

She didn't get it. How cold you go to a family affair and not be related to a single person? Then it all clicked- the Italian, the expense, the rings, the fact that he called Luccio 'Don'. "You're in the mafia??" she hissed loudly.

"Shh," he whispered calmly. "_We're_ in the mafia. You're my wife of two months, we met at the bus stop when you almost got run over. I saved you, you were grateful and bought me a coffee, I proposed, and here we are now."

"Ohmigod," Elliot whispered. "Ohmigodohmigod, what if I say somethign that offends someone? Will they send a hit after me?"

"I doubt it," Janitor said passively. "If I didn't send a hit out on you when you kissed that guy on our honeymoon, no one here will kill you."

"Hey, whoa. I would never kiss someone else on our honeymoon!"

"Not even if I told you that you were a lousy cook?"

"Not even then! Although, granted, I know I am, but that's not the point!" She folded her arms moodily. "I'm not a whore, you know."

Janitor's voice went soft. "I know."

Elliot looked over at him, seeing on his face something unfamiliar. Was it remorse? No, probably not. Fear? Maybe. Maybe he was afraid she'd blow his cover and The Family would be angry with him. As mad as she was right now, it wasn't worth him getting whacked over. "This is going to take a lot more alcohol to make this work," she informed him.

* * *

I don't speak any Italian, so I used Babelfish. Sorry if it's not right at all.

The convo went as follows:

My son! I am pleased to see you!

And I you, Don Luccio. Your daughter is lovely.

Tell me what I don't know! but who is this vision by your side?

My wife, Dr. Reed.

She is charming, my boy. Too chatty for me, but if you are happy. And she kept her own name?

Headstrong women, what can you do?

True. Go, eat, enjoy! Dance!

Thank you, Don.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Scrubs, I use them as my playthings.

* * *

He was shrouded in mist, sneaking his way into the dreaded castle. "Come on, Scoob," JD whispered, "let's find out who's really under the mask."

"For the last time," Carla sai impatiently, "stop calling me Scooby."

"Velma?"

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"Daphne, I mean. The hot one." JD wiped the implied sweat from his brow when Carla smiled. "Okay, there's Dr. Webber. Let's get in real close-"

"I really don't think we have to sneak up on her like this."

JD pouted. "I've been wanting to do a Scooby Doo investigation forever, and this is the first mystery I've had to solve in a long time."

"Okay, fine, I'm just saying it's a little unnecessary."

Keeping his sneakers as quiet as possible, crouching low, JD tiptoed around the doorway. "Dr Webber!" he cried out, standing at attention.

Jane was standing just beyond the door, tapping her foot. "Jinkies, Shaggy, I think we've been found out."

"So _you're_ Velma!" he declared, nodding. Her hair was cut short, her face was squarish, and she had an aura of attractive nerdiness all about her. "That makes sense, actually."

"Why are you two following me around like that?"

"In fairness," Carla piped up, "JD was following you like that. I was just walking."

Jane laughed. "I guess so. But that doesn't explain what you two want."

JD looked at Carla, who looked back. "Well..." she began, "I guess we were just wondering..."

"What did you mean before," JD interrupted, "when you said 'I've said too much'?"

"Hmm," Jane said, pretending to ponder. "What I probably meant was I had already said more information than I'd intended to."

"But you stopped right at the good part!" he exclaimed.

"Well I'm sorry, JD, but the good part is where I stepped over the line!"

Carla tried to step in with reason. Well, maybe not reason so much as less whining. She could tell Dr. Webber wasn't a gossip queen like JD, so her willingness to spread information was take a little guile. "We're just sort of curious, because you didn't seem surprised when Janitor asked out Elliot."

"Yeah," JD agreed, like he was helping, "like you've seen it coming all along."

"That would be what 'About time' indicates," Jane said haughtily, stepping around Mystery Inc.

"So," Carla asked, right on her heels, "does that mean Janitor... _likes Elliot_?"

"Jinkies, girls, nothing gets by you."

"Get out!" JD cried, totally missing the fact he was just called a girl. Or maybe in spite of it. He was used to being called one by now. "Since when?!"

"It's none of my business," Jane said, a little impatiently, "and its certainly none of yours."

"But how do you know that?" Carla wanted to know. "I mean... I can sense a crush a mile and a half away. But I didn't see this coming."

"That's because you never looked at the Janitor as someone with feelings and sexual desires."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's because he doesn't have any," JD said.

Pointing her finger, Jane smiled triumphantly. "And that's why you didn't see it coming." JD and Carla pouted together. Jane only smiled wider. "Maybe later I'll tell you about the affair Ted had with a popular singer."

"What?!?" they cried out together.

"But again, I've said too much. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to check in on... Mr. Petrovich. Petrovich??" Dr. Webber's face went ghostly white. She shoved the chart into Carla's hands. "I've never seen this chart before in my life," she murmured, taking off at a run.

"The heck?" JD asked.

"Petrovich is a Russian name," Carla explained.

"Oh, right, the mafia thing."

"I certainly didn't give her this chart. I learned my lesson last time, when she ran off screaming and we found her four hours later in the kitchen freezer." Pursing her lips, her mind reeled through the possibilities of who had doled out this big heap of poor humor on Dr. Webber. "It was probably Dr. Cox," she decided.

"So Janitor and Elliot?" JD marveled. Though his imagination tried, even a dreamer like him couldn't see the combination.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I use the characters for fun, not profit.

* * *

It probably wouldn't have been as funny as it was if Elliot weren't as drunk as she was. "Are you serious?" she giggled, holding onto the janitor's arm to keep from falling over. 

"Yep," he told her, "apparently that's all it takes. He stepped in front of a bus, I grabbed him, next thing I know, I'm one of the family."

Elliot giggled again. "Didn't he notice a similarity between how you two met and how you and I met?"

"Well," he shrugged, catching Elliot as she started to fall over, "I changed a few details. But he didn't want anyone to know that was how he met me, so he lied. I don't remember what he said, no one questioned it the first time he said it."

"That's just bizarre," she said simply. "So, from movies, I understand each member of-" Approrpiate finger quotations- "'The Family' has their own job. What's yours?"

"You don't want to know."

"Come on, you can tell me. I'm your wife, aren't I? I won't tell."

"I know you wouldn't. I could hire a hit on you, remember?"

"On your own wife?" she asked, appalled.

"You kidding? Wives are the easiest. I'll just tell 'em you were unfaithful. If there's one thing that is not tolerated, it's infidelity."

"Okay, so if you want to, you can have me killed. Even though we're not married. Oh my God, what if I go out on a date and someone here sees me? Are they going kill me right there on the spot?"

"No, no. They'd ask my permission. It's only fair."

"Oh. What would you say?"

"I'd just have them take care of whoever you're with."

"You... no, you wouldn't."

"You wanna know what I do or what?"

"Yes!" she said, forgetting about the possibility of her next date being killed. "And I promise I won't tell anyone."

"I dispose of bodies."

Elliot stared at him. "Are you serious?" He shrugged. "How?"

"I work in a hospital, you know."

"Yes, I know, but... _really_?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"I think you're making it up."

"Maybe I am." He grinned at her. "Sorry you asked?"

"Not sorry, just... shocked. Where do you take the bodies?"

"Hmm... maybe I'll tell you next time."

"Next time when?"

"Next time I bring you to a family function."

Elliot chuckled. "If it's as nice as this one, I might just go, too."

They were on the dance floor, walking in circles but not quite dancing. Elliot had overestimated how much alcohol it would take to make the evening bearable. Her face had that happy, drunken glow, and more than ever this entire night felt like a dream. And not a bad one, to her own surprise.

"You look pretty nice, blonde doctor," Janitor said, smiling.

"Y'know," Elliot drawled, "you can probably call me Elliot."

He thought about it. "No, I prefer blonde doctor."

Shrugging, Elliot grinned. "Okay!" she declared happily. "I'm gonna call _you_ Elliot!"

"Funny you should say that..."

"Shut up!" she yelled, shocked. "Your name is not Elliot!"

"No, but it _was_ funny when you said it."

Elliot chuckled, keeping steady on her feet. The song had changed to a fast number, but still the two of them walked in jagged circles. The people around them whispered to one another, smiling and giving Janitor knowing eyes. Most everything they said was in Italian, so Elliot ignored them easily. As her vision blurred, the lights became dimmer, and the music blended with the chatter from the guests and made her feel like she was dancing in a music box.

"This is so beautiful," she murmured drunkly. "I can't believe I'm here with you... and I'm not terrified you're going to kill me."

"That's fair," he reasoned. "But I'd probably torture you before I killed you."

"Good!" she giggled. "I'd expect nothing... nothing less..." Suddenly her face went ashy. "Uh oh," she whispered.

Checking his watch, Janitor nodded. "It's about that time," he agreed. "Come on, blondie."

"I'm going to be sick."

"Not on this suit you're not." Guiding her gently through the crowd, Janitor waved over one of the female caterers. "English?" he asked calmly.

"Yes," she replied.

"Good. Can you take my wife to the restroom while I bring the car around?"

"Absolutely, sir," she replied chastly, taking Elliot gently. "Come on, honey, you're all right."

"I'm gonna puke," she informed the caterer. "Like crazy. Like a waterfall."

"Talking about it won't help you feel better," the woman warned as they disappeared into the bathroom together.

When Elliot finished vomiting enough for three people, she stumbled out to the parking lot where Janitor waited for her in front of the limo. The night was dark and dreary, but he looked handsome and confident and the lights from the car made him glow. Like a knight. "I must be dreaming," she whispered. "You look so good."

"I clean up well," he said passively. "Being a janitor and all."

"But you look like a prince."

"Come on, blondie." He took her hand and ushered her into the limo. Once they were settled, and Elliot was sprawled across the seat, Janitor asked "Where to?"

"My house," she mumbled.

"Where's that?"

"On the... corner..." Her eyes started drooping. "...of the most beautiful night with... most unexpected..." There was one last flutter of her eyelashes, then Elliot was out like a light.

Tapping the glass, Janitor whispered to the driver "My house, please."

* * *

She awoke to the sound of canned laughter, and she didn't know where she was. More importantly, she was thirstier than she thought possible for a human to be. As her eyes adjusted to the flickering light, she got a bearing on her surroundings. She was lying on a smooth couch, a warm fleece blanket draped over her. A foot or so away from her was a coffee table, on it was placed a glass of water and a small, empty ice cream tub. She assumed it was a barf bucket. Very thoughtful. 

It took an effort, but Elliot pulled herself upright and blinked away the sleepiness. Before doing anything, before even looking for something that would give her a clue as to where she was, she gulped down the water, absorbing the liquid like the desert takes rain. Then she waited a second, making sure it would stay down, before gathering her bearings.

To her left, Janitor was lounging in a pair of flannel pajama pants on a loveseat that had certainly seen better days. He was staring at the television set, which seemed to be playing Three's Company. He looked sleepy yet determined to stay awake.

"Where are we?" Elliot asked, her voice scratchy.

"My house," Janitor said softly. "Where else?"

She swallowed. "I dunno, maybe you could have brought me home?"

"Funny thing about that... I don't know where you live. When I asked, you zonked out on me."

Now that she thought about it, she did remember the last thing he'd said to her was 'Where to'? She did not, however, remember what she had said in response. Apparently, nothing. "I'm actually sort of surprised you don't know already."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Seems like someting I'd know. I'll get right on that."

Elliot touched her lower back. "I half expected my kidneys to be gone, too," she admitted.

"I thought about it. How's you head?"

"Oh, it's... okay, surprisingly."

"Well, you should probably go back to sleep. You want more water?"

"Yeah, thanks." More tinny laughter came from the television as John Ritter made another goofy face while falling over furniture. Elliot watched as Janitor grabbed her cup, gave her a small smile, then walked off into the kitchen. "He has chest hair," she said to herself. Then she had to laugh because of all the strangeness the evening had brought, that was the one thing she'd been surprised about. When he came back, Elliot drank her water slowly. The last glass had gone down fine, but she didn't like pushing her luck. "Thank you," she said, and meant it.

He shrugged. "I'll drive you in to work tomorrow, if you want."

"I can't stay here," she said, sounding more alarmed than she'd meant to. "I mean," she said hurriedly, trying to cover up her franticness, "I don't have my scrubs, and I need to shower, and-"

"You don't want everyone thinking you'd slept with me. That's okay, I get it."

"Well... I didn't mean it quite like that, but... yeah." He rolled his eyes. "No," she continued, "what I mean is, I had a great time tonight. A surprisingly great time. But you know how people are, they'll start rumors."

"Mm, Scooter loves to gossip," he conceded. Janitor flopped back down on the loveseat, once again staring at the tv with blank fascination.

For a while, Elliot said nothing. She wasn't sure what to do. "Can I use your bathroom?" she asked finally. With a vague wave, he pointed out where she assumed it was. However, she did not anticipate standing to be so difficult. She fell right to the floor. "Ugh, why did I drink so much?"

"To forget where you were," he informed her. "And who you were with."

You had to listen for it, but in his voice was a trace of hurt that ran deeper than Elliot could even fathom. It dawned on her that she had really hurt his feelings. What shocked her more was that this fact bothered her a great deal. Since walking was out, she crawled her way over to him. With her on the floor and him laying down, they were about face to face. It was a first for her, since he was taller than she was and she usually didn't like standing too close to him. You know, for safety reasons.

"I was nervous," she told him, though he was still not looking at her. "And to be fair, you did trick me into going with you tonight."

"Didn't think you'd go otherwise," he said softly.

"To be honest, I probably wouldn't have." She suddenly remembered what Dr. Webber had said at the hospital. _About time_. Meaning that this date (to Janitor) had been a long time coming. If she didn't nip this thing right now, the awkwardness and uncertainty would go on for who knew how long. Elliot knew she had to be honest and let him know that this, that _they_, weren't going to happen. "Look, Janitor-"

"It's David," he told her, meeting her eyes for the first time. They were blue and bright and soft, and Elliot almost understood why moths flew right into flames. He looked sincere and young, and his eyes told her that he liked her very much. It was maybe the first real emotion she'd ever seen on his face. So instead of letting him down gently, instead of walking away before things got too confusing, she kissed him. Passion swam through her head like a tidal wave, and all she wanted was more. More skin, more mouth, more everything. She had spent the entire night in such a daze, mostly because of alcohol, but this was such a perfect ending to what had seemed like a fairytale all along. The more she kissed him, the more fuzzy everything around her became. His hands were soft on her cheeks, his tongue warm and strong but not invasive. Her hands roamed his chest tentatively. As she trailed her fingers down his stomach, her mind started thinking about all the times she'd passed him in the hallway and never noticed much about him. It made her wonder why she was here now, what she was doing, and even why she had never thought to do it before. Her hands reached the elastic waistband of his pajama pants, and all too suddenly he had pulled away. He sat up, spilling Elliot onto the floor.

"Huh?" she asked, still too far gone for real words.

"Drunk girls don't get to say yes," he told her. "They only get to say no."

"But I'm not... whoa... I can't..." And then she knew she _was_ still drunk, and seconds later the blackness took over again.

* * *

Her phone rang three times before she answered. She knew who it was. She didn't want to know what he wanted. "What?" she grunted. 

"Jane, I need help."

"I knew that."

He rolled his eyes. "No, seriously. Can you find out where Elliot lives?"

Jane sat upright, rushing blood to her exhausted head. "Oh, no, you didn't. Please tell me she is not at your house."

"Hey, I asked where she lived and she passed out on me. So where was I supposed to bring her, the dump?"

"The hospital, maybe? Where her car is?"

"I wasn't just going to leave her in her car passed out."

Switching on her bedside lamp, Jane squinted her eyes to the sudden brightness. "So why don't you wait until she wakes up and ask her?"

He paced his kitchen floor, keeping an ear out for sounds from the living room. "She woke up for a while, but she's out again. Come on Jane, just help me out. Okay?"

Grumbling, Jane switched on her laptop computer. "You know, when we broke up five years ago, I thought I wouldn't have to be answering calls from you at five in the morning anymore."

"It's quarter to three," he told her.

"Oh, that helps."

He waited patiently, listening to the clack of a keyboard from Jane's end of the line. "Okay, I got it," she anounced.

"Thanks," he said, getting paper and writing down brief directions.

"David... you didn't do anything stupid, did you?"

He hesitated. "Please. After you, I don't do stupid things with girls anymore."

"Ha ha," she said dryly. "Now I know why I dumped you."

"_I_ dumped _you_, cupcake."

"Ok, go on believing that. Whatever helps." As much as she hated him right now, Jane couldn't help but smile at his voice.

After a small silence, he said quietly "The family misses you, Jane. Everyone tonight asked about you."

"Well I don't miss the family," she lied. "I'm doing much better without them."

"Go on believing that. Whatever helps."

She smiled grimly. "Goodnight, moron." And she hung up.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I use all Scrubs characters for fun, not profit.

* * *

He was mopping the floor with less than his usual amount of interest. If he was lucky, an intern would happen by and he could ruin their day by mopping over their shoes, or maybe make them fall. That would certainly bring up his mood.

"No," he said before words could even come out of JD's mouth.

"No what?" JD asked innocently.

Janitor shrugged. "Just a preemptive no, warding off any stupid questions, comments, or possible assumptions."

"I wasn't going to ask anything," JD lied, shrugging his shoulders overdramatically. "I didn't even say anything, but if I was going to say anything it just would have been great big good morning!" Walking away, he hit his forehead when the heel of his hand. _Good morning? That's not what you wanted to say at all!_ There had been a billion questions, but as usual Janitor had intimidated JD into walking away before he could ask any. Maybe talking to Elliot would yield better results.

"Carla," he asked, "have you seen Elliot?"

"No, but as soon as I do she's getting the third degree." She and Turk were sipping their morning lattes in the cafeteria, holding hands and enjoying their moment together.

"Baby, do you think it's a good idea to pounce her right away?" Turk asked. "I mean, she seemed pretty embarassed last night. Maybe we should lay off."

Carla turned to him, her expression holding a pound of whoop-ass. "Excuse me? You were the one suggested we wait here for her. I am not gonna back off so you and JD can lord any information over me that she spills while I go start my shift!" She turned back to her latte. "I'm not moving until she gets here and I get some juicy details."

* * *

Elliot snuck in through the side entrance, hoping to avoid everyone. She had woken up in her own bed confused and slightly hung over. If she was lucky, no one would see her all morning, and by afternoon they'd forget all about her date last night. Oh God, the date. Had it been one? There had been a kiss... or was that just an alcohol-induced dream? It had been so magical there was hardly a possibility it had been real. But it felt so real. No, hiding all day wouldn't work. Elliot needed to talk this out with someone, make some sense of it. But first, there was a great need for coffee. She wouldn't make it through the next half uour without caffeine and a blueberry muffin. Elliot grimmaced. Just thinking about the moist, tender blueberries was making her stomach churn. Maybe a simple corn muffin would be better. There'd be no pockets of sweetness, no surprise flavors in a balnd corn muffin. It was safer for the gag reflex. 

Okay, with coffee and muffin in hand, Elliot's mind raced with possibility. Who to talk to? Not JD. Not Turk. Carla? There was always the possibility that Carla would tell everyone. But what if they made a pinky swear, like ten year olds? Then at least Elliot had the right to break her pinky when she blabbed. It made her smile to think of Carla laying her tiny finger on a table while Elliot raised a hammer and smashed it down. Ugh, the bones would snap and there would be a lot of blood. Probably best not to think about it right now, what with sickness only inches away.

She groaned when she finally got to the cafeteria. There they were, the three amigos, sitting at a table, no doubt waiting for her to come in and gush about her "big night". This was awful. But she needed to talk to someone, so with her head held high, she was going to march over there, grab Carla and run away as fast as the little Dominican woman's legs would go.

"Good morning," Elliot said proudly.

"Morning," Turk snickered. "Have a good night?"

She shrugged. "I guess. The reception was _lovely_. A wealthy Italian family."

"Wait," JD interrupted, "he brought you to a wedding?"

"It wasn't that big a deal," Ellito said passively. "A friend of the family. We had a good time."

"So that's it? You just had a good time?" Carla sounded almost disappointed. "Frankly I expected something a little more..."

"Creepy? Yeah, I know what you mean. I mean, I kinda expected to wake up with my kidneys gone." Elliot froze. _Oh no!_ she thought frantically. _I thought he'd taken my kidneys when I woke up at his house!_ She forced a laugh, hoping it would cover up her expression. Luckily the other three were chuckling along with her.

"Well, Carla and I talked to Dr. Webber last night," JD said slyly, "and she said that Janitor really likes you, Elliot."

"She said that?" Her voice squeaked a little.

"Well, she didn't _say_ so much as haughtily implied. But still. At least now you know why he asked you to begin with."

"That's not why he asked me," Elliot said impatiently without thinking.

"Then why?"

"Uh..." _Because he told the mafia I was his wife._ "It's not important. I went, it was fun, I'm back. Now on a completely unrelated topic, Carla, I need you." She practically jumped out of her chair and took off before even lookign back to see if Carla was follwing her.

"Guess I better go," Carla said to the boys. "Don't even think about following us."

"We won't," JD assured her.

"Okay. But just to be sure, I've hidden something very near and dear to you somewhere in the hospital. You don't know what it is, you don't know where I've put it, and if you follow us, you'll never find out."

"Well, I wasn't going to anyway, so it doesn't matter." He paused. "It wasn't my rare collective Dorothy doll with snow white Toto, was it?"

She shrugged. "I forget. I better go talk to Elliot alone to remind myself." Carla walked away, her hips swinging sexily as the aura of triumph oozed off of her.

"Hold up," Turk said, something just occuring to him. "You don't think she took something of mine too, do you?"

"Is it worth finding out?"

Turk sipped his now cool coffee. "No," he mumbled miserably.

* * *

"Wait, he told them you were his _wife_?" 

"Uh huh. Oh, and get this- the family? Not his real family. It's..." She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. "The Mafia."

"He brought you to a mob wedding?"

"Oh, it gets so, so, _so_ much worse."

"Oh God, what did he do?" Carla asked sympathetically. "Am I gonna have to hurt him somehow?"

"No," Elliot told her, embarassed. "He was actually quite... I don't know, charming. It was my fault." They had huddled themselves on the stairwell leading up to the roof, giving death looks to anyone who came to pass. "I was drinking like the world was on fire last night-"

"Oh, Elliot, you can't hold alcohol well enough for a wedding!"

"I know, but I was nervous and really, really uncomfortable. So after I don't know, fifteen burbouns, we get into the limo-"

"There was a limo?"

"It was long and black and absolutely perfect. Carla, the night was sparkling and he looked like a prince with his shiny black steed. I have never felt more magic on a date in my life. Of course, to be fair, it might have been all the booze, but anyway. So we get in the car, and he asks where I live, and I passed out. So when I wake up, we're at his house watching Three's Company. And he had wrapped me in a really soft blanket and put a glass of water and a barf bucket on the table beside me."

"Wow." Carla tried absorbing all this, then tried equating it with the janitor, but it just wouldn't fit. "I mean, it all sounds really sweet, and if it were anyone else I'd be swooning as hard as ever, but... Janitor? That almost makes it creepy."

"Yeah, well, that's when I thought my kidneys would be gone. _But they weren't_. Everything was going so perfect. And then..." She covered her face with her hands.

"Oh, no no, Elliot, please tell me you didn't-"

"I kissed him. And not just a pass-offable peck like you give at the end of an awkward date that doesn't even count on the list of guys you kiss, but like a real, full face, hands all over his chest kind of kiss."

"You took off his shirt?" Carla asked, appalled.

"No, he wasn't wearing one."

"Whoa, okay, didn't need to visualize that." This was far more interesting than Carla had anticipated. "You kissed him? What did he do?"

"Uh... well, I guess he kissed back for a minute, and then he sorta freaked out and dropped me on the floor."

"He dropped you on the floor?"

"I was on my knees to begin with-"

"_Elliot_!"

"No, no, I couldn't stand up! I tried walking to the bathroom and I fell. And then I said 'Why did I drink so much?' and he said 'To forget you were with me' or something like that, and I just felt awful. And I tried to apologize, but he just..." She tried to make her fuzzy memories come together. "He looked really sad, Carla. Like _really_ sad. I never really thought of him as an actual person with any actual feelings, but the way he looked at me..."

Carla nodded, remebering what Jane had said to her last night. _That's because you never looked at the janitor as someone with feelings and sexual desires. And that's why you didn't see it coming_. It was easy, when you only saw someone from one side, to ignore them as a person and make them fill the role you wanted them to play. "Go on," she urged.

"It was like seeing a totally different person. Or maybe seeing him for the first time, I don't know. It was such an intense moment, and then he told me his name, and I guess I just lost it. I _kissed_ him. I cna't believe I did that."

"Wait, so what is his name?"

"It's David." Elliot smiled. "Just David. I kinda expected something more dramatic, like when you find out your favorite soap star's secret past. You expect they're a spy, or that they're on the run from the CIA, not something simple like a divorce. I guess it just made the night that much more real. David."

"So what happened after that? After he dropped you, after you kissed him? What'd he do?"

"He said something like 'Drunk girls can't say yes, they can only say no'. I'm not sure what he meant, but then the room started spinning and I passed out again. And I woke up in my bed."

"Hmm. So, are you two.._.together_ now?"

"Nope. Well, at least, I don't think so."

"What did he say when you saw him this morning?"

"Oh, I haven't. I'm hoping to avoid him for the rest of my life." She drank her now cold coffee and grimmaced.

"So, Elliot, you should probably go talk to him."

"Oh, no thanks. No. Think I'd rather not."

Carla tossed her hands in the air. "Elliot! You dragged me up here to tell me what happend and ask me what to do. But I can't really help you until you know what he wants."

"I know, I know. You're right. But I'm kinda freaked out about it." Her voice got small and timid. "I think I really hurt his feelings. What am I going to say to him?"

"Tell him the truth, Elliot."

"But... I'm not sure what the truth _is_. I just don't know."

"Then maybe you should figure that out first."

Elliot knew Carla was right. It shouldn't have been such a hard decision, but after seeing David's eyes last night, she wasn't so sure of herself.

One thing was certain, though- she was going to hide from that janitor as long as humanly possible.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Scrubs is not my property.

* * *

While buried in her work, Elliot felt completely in control of herself. She knew she had finally become the doctor she'd always wanted to be. Her patients respected her, the staff respected her, and she really knew her stuff. It was a great feeling to be so sure of herself after a lifetime of wondering what she was worth. She was in such a good mood now that, even after the events of last night, Elliot walked the halls confidently, ignoring the looks she got from colleagues who wanted badly to know how her date had gone.

"Oh, Dr, Webber!" she called, seeing the small brunette with her nose buried in a chart. "I had a question-"

"No!" Jane yelled, startling Elliot. She started walking away as she spoke, though Elliot followed right on her heels. "No, no, he told me you'd come looking for me and I want no part of this insanity."

"I'm sorry? I was just-"

"Look, he did call me last night to find out where you lived, but that doesn't make me involved in whatever it is you two have, okay?"

"Wait a second... he called you last night? What did he say?" Suddenly, all Elliot's thought on whatever dumb question she'd had were gone. "Wait, why did he call _you_?"

Shaking her head frantically, Jane wove her way through the oncoming rush of doctors changing shifts. She didn't speak again until she had Elliot in the privacy of the break room. "Listen, I didn't want to get involved here. I told David-"

"How do you know his name?"

Jane slapped herself on the forehead. "Oh, hell! I didn't mean to say that."

"Jane, please." Elliot brought out the watery puppy eyes. "I have no idea what to do about any of this, and if you can help me make it easier... please?"

She heaved a sigh, whimpering at the end of it. "I'll be frank with you. I know David because he and I used to be engaged. About five years ago. That's how he got involved with Luccio and the family."

"Wait a second," Elliot said, the pieces falling into place in her brain. "Oh my God, _you're_ in the mafia!"

She nodded. "Don Luccio is my great uncle. I started seeing David, and he wanted to get married but I didn't want him to become a part of that life. I didn't even want to be a part of it. But he was determined, so he went to my father and asked him what he could do. There are two ways to get into the family- you either do a favor or hit somebody."

"Hit somebody?" _Like in a bar fight_? she wondered. But then it was all clear. "He.. he _killed someone_?!?"

"Will you hush!" Jane scolded. "No, he didn't. He did the favor. And he's still doing the same favors, and I'll assume you know what that is."

"You mean... the bodies?" Jane nodded again, and Elliot's face paled. "I thought he was just making that up."

"He does that. It's a lot easier to be honest when no one believes it."

"So, wait, I'm confused. Why did he tell me he saved Don Luccio from a bus?"

"Elliot, he was on a date with you. Why would he tell you that his connection to the family was through another woman?"

"I guess that makes sense. Gosh, this is all too weird."

"That's barely the tip of it. But I'll spare the details. As soon as he got in, I got out. I left and told the family I wasn't coming back, but David was stuck with them. It's a lot harder for a man to leave than a woman, since the men are the ones who know all the family secrets. So five years later here we are, and now you know."

"Now I know. But... this doesn't really explain last night."

Jane leaned in close to Elliot, her voice dropping low. "He likes you, Elliot. I know him very well, and I can see it plain as anything. But I tell you this now as a friend, a colleague, and a woman who has loved that man. _Get out_. You do not want to be involved in the kind of life he will bring you."

"Okay," she nodded. "But how do I tell him I'm not intersted?"

"Simple. Just don't mention it. Act like evrything is the same as it always was. You can even talk about the wedding reception, as long as you keep it casual. Never indicate you ever were interested, and he won't even bother trying."

"Are you sure? That seems really..."

"Mean? Think of it this way. He tricked you into going out with him when you didn't even want to. Then he brought you to his house, and, well, I don't know what happened after that and I don't want to, but... you know. Just remember that."

It made sense. Jane knew Janitor pretty well, so it stood to reason that she'd be right about this. "Thank you," Elliot said, mulling it over as she left. Jane watched her go, a half-smile on her lips.

"She buy it?" Janitor asked, sliding in behind Jane as though standing on a conveyer belt.

"Hook, line and sinker," she assured him. "Ironic thing is, I'm pretty sure she was most skeptical of the true stuff."

He smiled hollowly. "Thanks."

"Do you really think this will scare her away?"

"I think so."

She looked back over her shoulder. "Is that what you really want?"

He took a moment to answer, keeping his eyes on the doctors passing in the hallway. "It'll make life easier," he decided.

"Easier than admitting she doesn't want you?"

"Easier than answering your stupid questions at least."

Jane smiled, then punched him hard on the arm. "I love you too, you big goon."

"I loved you first, you weird little mouse." He kissed her forehead and ventured into the great halls beyond.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All characters are property of Scrubs.

* * *

"So, that's it? Just ignore it and it'll go away?"

"Uh huh."

Carla still couldn't believe it. "Nothing is ever that simple," she told Elliot.

"For once in my life, something _is_ that simple! All I have to do is not talk about it and I never have to worry about it again. Carla, please don't ruin this by trying to talk to him, or making me feel guilty about something I don't have to feel guilty about."

She frowned. "All right, fine. But when this all blows up in your face and I don't say I told you so, just know that I _did_ tell you so. And I'll be doing a victory dance in my head the whole time."

"Well you won't need a victory dance," Elliot told her smugly, "because it won't go wrong. Besides, Dr. Webber was right. I could be saving my own life by not getting involved."

* * *

Elliot practically skipped through the rest of her day. Her relationships had always been so involved and complicated, so intense and impossible to understand. She could never seem to do anything right. When she and JD had split, it made everything go to hell. She couldn't ignore him, but she couldn't talk to him either. But now... Now it all made sense. Why couldn't everything make this much sense? She didn't want to further a relationship with him, so why did there need to be tension, why bother hashing it out between them? Why have that awful "talk" where one person gives every reason the other would be the perfect mate... just not for them. There was no sense. It wasn't like a lot had happened. Well, a kiss, but it wasn't like a long kiss. Just insanely intense. But she had been drunk, and you can't trust your feelings when you're drunk. Although alcohol was considered a truth serum. She shook her head violently, scattering all the thoughts clouding her good mood.

"See you tomorrow, Dr. Cox," she said cheerily as she approached the door. He grunted a curt response. The janitor was standing by the door fiddling with the glass. It looked like he was either scraping gum off the door or was using a screwdriver to chisel his name in it, forever etching himself in Sacred Heart. Now was the perfect time for Elliot to prove to herself (and Carla) that this plan of ignoring the problem was just perfect. "Good night, David."

Janitor continued staring at the door, his brow furrowed. Absently, he waved the screwdriver in the air.

Puzzled, Elliot tapped his shoulder. He looked at her and smiled, as though pleasantly surprised. "Didn't you hear me?" She had a fleeting moment of panic, thinking he was ignoring her, and that maybe Carla had been right. "I said goodnight."

But he smiled wider. "No, I heard you. David heard you too. That's who you said goodnight to, wasn't it?" He waved the screwdriver, shaking his head sadly. "I assume he says goodnight as well, but I don't speak hardware."

"But... no, I was talking to _you_."

"Well, then you should have said. I thought you were just talking to David." He held up the phillips head, and in the dying light of the sunset, Elliot could see the word 'David' carved into the red plastic handle.

"You named your screwdriver David?"

"That's his name after all."

"You... you told me _your_ name was-"

Janitor shrugged. "Yep. I lied."

"But Dr. Webber said-"

"She lied too.

Her mouth was hanging open slightly. Was this seriously happening? How could he have lied to her? It had been such a perfect moment, the only time in the entirety of their relationship where he had seemed like a real man. "Why would you lie like that?" she asked, a little more hurt than she cared to admit.

He waited for a doctor on her way out to pass by before answering, "How do you know I'm not lying now?"

"Are you?"

Again, he shrugged. "You broke the deal, Blondie."

"The deal?"

"Terms were quite clear as represented by my assosciate Jane. You do not acknowledge the events of last night, and we commence as usual."

"Okay, well then, how was I not complying with the terms?"

"What's my name?" he asked softly.

"It's-"

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you-"

"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "When last night did not happen, I never told you anything. Hence... what is my name?"

Elliot understood. And like this entire scheme, it made so much sense. For this to work, absolutely nothing had to be different. "I dunno," she said at last. "Nobody knows." She wrinkled her brow. "What is your name, anyway?"

"It's Jan Itor."

"Really?"

Shaking his head, he said "Absolutely. Goodnight Blonde Doctor."

As Elliot walked through the parking lot, she was glad that everything was as it should be. But a small part of her was disappointed, too. She sort of liked having a secret, knowing something about the janitor that no one else ever would. It made her feel special.

It also reminded her of one of the most amazing kisses she'd ever had in her entire life. But she wouldn't let herself dwell on that.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: All affiliates property of someone else.

* * *

His mouth was so warm, so soft. It felt like a washcloth on her nipples- soft, teasing, sensuous. His lips, cherry red and slightly swollen from passionate kisses, trailed their way down her smooth stomach until he was just abover her most sensitive spot. His hands were soft, gentle, kind. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes and relishing the moment. The silk sheets beneath her warmed to her body, and as she writhed, she slid over them as a snake on grass. Her fingers ran through his short, soft hair.

"Elliot," he whispered.

"Mm," she purred, too far gone to speak.

"You are so beautiful." His voice was light, sincere and husky. The fire inside her seethed as his breath brushed her skin. "So beautiful," he repeated.

"I want you," she moaned. "So much."

"Are you sure?" he asked, hesitant.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes..."

When the beauty of the dream faded away, and Elliot was left in her cold bed, alone and miserably awake, she wondered for just a moment who had been haunting her dream so powerfully. As consciousness gained its control on her, she knew. And it scared her.

* * *

Days passed at Sacred Heart hospital, and those days melted themselves into weeks. Although everything seemed the same, something significant had changed. Elliot couldn't quite place what it was, but if she had thought long enough about it, it would come to her in a startling epiphone.

Dr. Webber was leaving Sacred Heart to pursue life somewhere on the East Coast, though she would not specify where. There had been a small party for her with a badly frosted cake and enough soda to run an engine for a 747. As always when a doctor departed, stories of memories were shared and passed around like cocktail weenies at a barbeque.

"Remember when that old Russian guy was admitted?" JD was reminiscing, "and she ran to the freezer?"

Carla laughed. "And we couldn't get her to come out?"

Jane, having overheard this, joined in on the laughter. "Remember when Dr. Cox called me a short, paranoid anklebiter, and I spilled that urine sample on him?"

Carla, JD, Turk and Elliot stared at her. "No," Turk said finally.

"Oh, that's right," she giggled menacingly, "he gets really mad when I tell people that."

"Did you really do that?" JD asked, appalled and yet impressed.

"Oh, yeah. But it's ok, it wasn't a real urine sample. Some homeless lady just peed in a bottle, I was getting rid of it." A burst of laughter followed. While more stories swam around, Jane put an arm around Elliot. "You're a brilliant doctor, do you know that, Dr. Reed?"

Elliot's face lit up. "Thank you, Dr. Webber!" she beamed. "You know, I feel like I really know you, even though we never really talked much."

"I know what you mean," Jane agreed, slipping a folded paper into Elliot's jacket pocket.

"What's this?" she asked, starting to take it out.

"Later," Jane said sternly. Her eyes met Elliot's briefly before departing to say goodbye to more of her colleauges.

* * *

It wasn't until Elliot flopped on her couch exhausted that she remebered Dr. Webber's note.

_Elliot, _

_The truth, as far as I can tell it. _

_When I told you about David, I meant it when I said he liked you. But after that I pretty much lied to you completely. So here's the real story. He and I were going to be married, but I had a hit sent out after me, so I went into hiding. A hit from... you guessed it, Russian Mob. I'm not just an eccentric looney afraid of communists, despite what Dr. Cox believes. David stayed with the family to keep an ear on things, see when I could come home. No such luck yet, hence the moving to some random East Coast state. That's the real reason I left the family, had nothing to do with David. But anyway. _

_The night you went out with him, he called me to find out your address because I worked for the FBI and can still log onto their database. I know, it all sounds like a weird police drama, but it's as true as anything. All that ties into the hit on me, and the less you know, the better. The point of this letter is to tell you that I lied because he asked me to, and he's been my best friend for so many years. I'm not worried about your safety, Elliot. You'd probably be the safest you've ever been in your entire life if you got involved with the Family. David just didn't want to face rejection. The fact that you never came to talk to him the next morning was a very clear sign that you weren't interested, and even though some things (things I don't know, don't want to know) happened while you were drunk, he realised they were just drunken acts of lust and not real acts of desire. So he told me to steer you clear of him, and that way neither of you would have to deal with the awkwardness. _

_I'm telling you this now because every woman should know stuff like this. He told the family you were his wife because he's nuts about you, and if you asked, he would marry you in a heartbeat. And yes, he's insane, but not in an entirely bad way. He is a good man who has the capacity (though often not the intelligence) to love a woman. I'm telling you this just on the chance you've changed your mind about him over the past month and a half. He doesn't know I wrote to you, so don't feel awkward if you're still not interested. _

_Maybe this won't matter to you, I don't know. But I wouldn't be a very good friend to him if I didn't try. _

_Jane_

_p.s. Damn good kisser, that one. Just saying._

As Elliot read the note, then reread it, she could not decipher the range of emotions going through her. Jane had lied to her, but she wasn't bothered by that. She wasn't even suprised by it. It seemed every connection there was to the janitor was wrapped in some sort of lie, deception, or fantasy. That was probably what made him so interesting and scary. What did bother her was that now, there was a whole new problem opened up again. It had been so easy a month ago when they had both agreed to ignore it, and after all this time Elliot had assumed his crush on her would have faded away. Apparently not. How was she going to go to work every day, to see him and say hello and not have this giant lump of knowledge sitting in the back of her mind, nagging her? Jane had just ruined everything. And worse still, Carla had been right. Nothing was ever that simple.

Although... The letter did say that janitor didn't know what Jane had written. So there was a possibility Elliot could just ignore what she'd read and keep on living as she had been before! It was perfect. Nothing had changed.

Except there were still the dreams. Except those.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just tinker.

* * *

Every time she dreamed of him it was the same. They were close, surrounded by soft light, only aware of each other. Elliot felt more alive than she ever had with a man, and even though nothing interesting or adventurous was happening, she was excited and nervous just being beside him. His hands were always gentle, his kisses always soft. Every time he brought her so close to the peak of pleasure, and every time he would ask her in a small, timid voice "Are you sure?" And every time she said yes, but the dream would slip away before she could prove it.

Today she was trying to decipher her own dream. Staring at a patient's chart but not really seeing it, Elliot dug deep into her brain. The janitor's voice was her own subconscious, asking her if she was sure whether or not she wanted to be with him. But the dream Elliot always said yes. Did that mean that yes, she wanted him in waking life, or just to fulfill her desires in the dream? Was dream Elliot the voice of lust or reason? Maybe she always said yes because, admittedly, there had been a lack of men in her life at the present moment, and she knew the janitor was a sure thing. So did her subconscious want a one night stand with him? That was a bad idea no matter how you looked at it.

Perry Cox waited patiently, studying the frail blonde before him. She sure seemed confused about something on Mr. Krane's chart. Peering subtly over her shoulder, he checked the diagnosis. Stomach pains, vomiting, diarrhea, dehydration, overall sick feeling and weak. He looked at Dr. Reed, confused. What the hell was she studying? Whisting loudly through his teeth, he scared Elliot to attention. "Food poisoning, Barbie," he yelled at her. "My God, are you stuck on something so simple? Are you staring at the words on that chart trying to piece it all together when I'm fairly certain you _passed_ med school? Did your brain die last night, huh, did it, Barbo?"

"No, it didn't," she said, flustered. "I'm sorry, I was thinking of something else."

"Yeah," Perry agreed, "I was too. It was something along the lines of 'Dear God, is she fantasizing about going home to the Ken doll of her dreams, or maybe perhaps she's found herself a new Malibu dream house-"

"Okay, I get it!" Elliot snapped irritably, cutting off Dr. Cox in the middle of a tirade. He looked shocked and a bit disappointed. "I need to focus, personal life stays home." Clutching her chart to her chest, she walked off, pleased with herself but disappointed she had left her personal life affect her so. In the hospital if you didn't pay attention people died. There was a time and a place to obsess over yourself.

That place was the bar! When her shift ended, Elliot decided to take a trip to the bar and have some drinks, loosen herself up for the mental probing she was going to give herself. She was fairly confident that she could solve this dilemma once and for all. But there was going to be a need for vodka to do it successfully.

"We'll start slow," she told the bartender. "Light beer will be fine for the moment." With a bowl of peanuts, a drink and some marischino cherry stems to tie knots with using her tongue, Elliot readied herself for the night ahead of her. She's brought a notebook along to jot down ideas as they came to her. While drinking would make being honest with herself easier, it also made her forget things.

After two hours of progress, good progress (and several good drinks), she'd comprised a list of pros and cons in relation to the janitor.

_Pros:_

_He's funny_

_He's surprising_

_Great kisser_

_Startlingly sensitive_

_According to dreams, very good lover (is this reliable enough for a pro?)_

_Didn't date rape me_

_Called his ex girlfriend at who knows what hour to bring me home_

_Hasn't told anyone important about our "date" (decided Jane does not count)_

_Cons:_

_Has been psychologically manipulating me and my friends for as long as I've known him_

_Sort of scares me_

_Obsession with dead things_

_Talks to the dead things (says Carla)_

_Everyone would tease me forever and ever_

_The Family _

_I've never been attracted to him before_

_...even though I think I am now_

Elliot scratched out the last line. That didn't count as a con. The paper moved out from under her pen, and before she was aware enough to react, it was being lfted off the bar and read by whoever had slid in next to her without her notice. It was the janitor. "No," she moaned, but didn't bother grabbing the list since he seemed almost done with it.

"Mm hmm," he hummed, reading each line. "Hmm. Uh huh... yep... Really? Forever and ever, eh?... " He nodded, as though grading the paper. "Not bad, not bad... but you forgot to write 'just a janitor' in there somewhere." Taking the pen, he scratched it in for her. "There. It gets an A plus."

"You being a janitor doesn't bother me," Elliot said moodily, too tipsy to be as embarassed as she should be.

"Well, I've never seen you get serious with someone who wasn't a doctor, so I just assumed."

"No, no, there was that Sea World guy, remember?"

Janitor took a good long think. "Nope," he decreed. "Barkeep, scotch on the rocks. No rocks."

"So, just scotch?" the bartender asked.

"On the rocks, no rocks," he repeated firmly. "Sheesh," he said to Elliot as the bartender rolled his eyes, "some people." He sipped his drink, contemplated it, then decided not to complain.

"So," Elliot asked casually, trying to discreetly take her list and hide it under her beer, "what are you doing here?"

"AA meeting," he said simply, waving over to a few barflies who were just about ready to fall off their stools. They waved back.

"I see," Elliot said, keeping her mouth shut.

"Add that to your little list," he suggested. "Alcoholic."

"Look," she said sincerely, "you weren't supposed to see it. No one was. That list is just for me, I'm trying to figure some things out."

"Like what?"

Elliot looked into his eyes, and decided that she had nothing to lose from talking to him about it. He had done nothing but surprise her since they'd gone to the wedding. "Are you any good at psychoanalysis?"

"Guess so. Have a degree in it from Stanford."

"Is that true?"

"Mostly. I've never been to Stanford." He drank more scotch. "What's on your mind?"

"I wish I knew," she said honestly. "For the past month or so, every now and again I've... well, I've been having dreams about you. Weird dreams. Sex dreams."

"And this disappoints you?"

"No, that's the thing," she continued, animating her speech with hand gestures. Now she was getting excited. It felt great to get it all out. "Every dream I've had has been wonderful. It's been passionate, and intense and beautiful. But right before anything happens, I wake up. In the dream I want it to happen, but maybe my subconscious wakes me up because it knows I'd regret it. But if that's the case, why do I keep dreaming it?"

"Let me get this straight...are you naked in these dreams?"

"Yes," she admitted, blushing.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "Do I have a good pecs, or no? I've always wondered how I'd look with big pecs."

"Forget it," she huffed. "I'm sorry I said anything, just like I knew I would be."

"Oh would you relax," he said amiably. "Alright, here's my professional analysis. It's a dream. It doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe I'm the last person you saw half naked. If that's the case, your sex-starved little brain is just using the last image it remembers to substitute a fantasy your libido apparently needs. Last night I dreamt I had a hippo sandwich, but I'm not making any trips to Africa to find myself an entree."

"You know what?" Elliot said. "That makes so much sense. It really does. I mean, I've been... in a dry spell, so to speak. And that night, with that kiss... it was really confusing. I'm probably just planting you in as a possibility because I have no other options at the moment! It doesn't have to mean something!"

"And this is why I quit med school," he said, raising his glass in a toast.

"Why?" she asked, clinking her bottle to his glass.

"To help the unfortunate souls at dank, depressing bars."

"Oh, right. Makes sense." They both drank. "I feel a lot better. Thanks."

"Hey, it's what I do."

Finishing off the last of her beer, Elliot felt more sober than she had all night. She felt refreshed, alive. "Hey, listen, you wanna go for a walk or something? Get some air?"

He held up a finger, indicating she should wait. After downing the rest of his scotch (and whatever was in the mystery glass beside him left by the last person), he finished with a satisfied "Ahh. Sure, why not?"

The chilly night air relaxed them both, and conversation flowed more easily than it ever had before. Even the homeless beggars on the street seemed cordial as they passed. Although the stars hid themselves behind the smog of the city, the bright lights twinkled beneath the cloud cover, making the world glow. There seemed to be so much to discuss. Elliot asked about Don Luccio, Janitor asked if Scooter and black surgeon had convinced black surgeon's wife to have a three way, Elliot asked about the squirrells Carla had told her about and Janitor told her all about them, all of their names and where he hoped they were now. It was actually quite a touching moment.

The more they talked, the more real Janitor seemed to become, and as the night flowed on he began to strip away his title of "Janitor", until only David was left behind. David had lovely eyes and a shy smile and his smooth voice was soothing and comforting. He looked into Elliot's eyes, then sometimes at her chest, then looked away quickly, as though afraid of being caught. In a very short while they were pretty much nowhere, having wandered onto the suburban streets amidst houses that all looked alike.

"I don't even know where we are anymore," Elliot admitted.

David looked to the sky, squinting through the cloudcover at the tiny stars that managed to poke their way through. "North is that way," he reasoned, "so your house is... there." He pointed west and started walking.

"But none of this looks familiar," Elliot argued, following. "I don't think my neighborhood if anywhere near here. And I don't recognize the streets."

"Well you can't go by streets," he informed her as he jumped a low white fence into someone's back yard.

"What are you... we can't do that!"

"But this is west."

"But that's someone's property!" He looked at her blankly. "And it's illegal!"

"Probably. Come on." He held out a hand, wordlessly asking her to follow. She looked around them, convinced herself it must be at least two in the morning so no one would see them, and hopped the fence.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered as they ducked under a brightly lit kitchen window, scurrying like mice. "I'm not good with these kinds of things. We're going to get caught, I just know it."

"If someone sees you, pretend to be a squirrell."

"Are squirrells your solution for everything?"

"Haven't let me down yet." He lifted her by the waist, placing her on an oak stump. "Go," he whispered, indicating the high metal fence beside her.

"This is nuts," she giggled as she climbed. Surprisingly, it was also fun. At least, it was fun until five backyards later, when the doberman caught wind of them. But even then Elliot couldn't help but laugh because David kicked it in the face, then bit it back when it caught hold of his forearm.

"Are you okay?" Elliot asked, once they were safely on the street and away from the psycho dog.

"Scratch," he told her, holding his arm.

"Let me see, I'm a doctor." David made a face, and she grinned sheepishly. "You knew that."

"I was wondering why you spent so much time at the hospital," he teased. But he did let her take a look, and it wasn't as bad as she'd expected it to be.

"You're still going to need a rabies shot," she told him. "And maybe stitches."

"Well, you can patch me up at your house, right?" he asked, pointing at the building across the street.

"Oh my God, that's my apartment!" She looked around, and the neighborhood now looked familiar. "I can't believe I never noticed that house over there before."

"Well, road less traveled." He was still spitting fur out of his teeth.

While Elliot brought him upstairs and bandaged him, pouring plenty of peroxide on the small teeth holes, he didn't make a sound. "Are you used to this?" she asked.

He smiled. "Mostly squirrell bites," he told her.

"I figured, actually." She smiled at her handiwork. "You're all set. Well, as good as I can do without stitches anyway. But it looks like you'll only need, like, three or four."

"Great." They looked at one another. For the first time that night, it felt awkward. "Well, guess I'll go now." He got to his feet and made for the door slowly.

"Wait a second," Elliot said hesitantly. "You... I dunno, want me to call you a cab or something?"

"No, it's okay. It's late anyway and I'm not really tired."

"If you wanna hang out a while..."

"No, I should go-"

"David?" This time he stopped, although his back was still to her. Elliot looked at the man before her, and suddenly became certain of what to say. "I want you to stay."

He shook his head. "Drunk girls don't get to say yes."

"But I'm not drunk, you know I'm not. And... I want you to. Please?"

David looked over his shoulder, though didn't turn around quite yet. "You're just lonely, Elliot," he said earnestly.

She moved between him and the door. "Every dream I have isn't of some faceless person, just some guy I need in my life. It's always you. Well, you or Ed Asner, but it's never anything sexual with him. Unless you count that one where he was walking around my dad's house in his underwear. His own, not my dad's underwear. But nothing even remotely sexual unless you count that."

"I do not," David agreed.

"Then it's just you. Just your kiss, just your body. And I think I know now why it's been bugging me so much." She gently placed each arm around his waist, pulling him close to her. "It's an unconscious desire." Closing her eyes, she moved up to his mouth, and with a brief hesitation, kissed him gently. He couldn't help but reciprocate.

When they pulled away, his voice had an unsure tremor in it. "Are you sure?" he asked meekly.

Elliot smiled. It was how he sounded in every dream she'd had about him- the shyness, the uncertainty. The scared look in his deep eyes. "Yes," she told him, taking his hand and pulling him along to her bedroom. "Absolutely."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Scrubs is property of Fox or whoever, and not me.

* * *

"Dog bites," he told Turk honestly. "Doberman."

"Damn," Turk said, impressed. "You got off lucky from that thing. Looks like he only scraped you."

"Yeah, well, I kicked him in the head."

"Where'd you run into a dog? On the street?"

"No, somone's back yard."

Turk raised an eyebrow. "Okay... were you chasing it?"

"No, nothing like that. I was jumping fences. Damn thing caught me."

"Wait a sec, hold up... Why were you jumping through peoples' yards?"

Janitor leaned in close. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Uh... yeah, sure."

"So can I." He rolled his sleeve up dutifully. "Can I get my rabies shot now?"

* * *

"...Oh my _God_," was just about all Carla could manage to say.

"Uh huh!" Elliot gushed, practically swooning. "Best ever. I mean really, _ever_."

"Yeah, but... with... Oh my God."

"Okay, I know it sounds weird," she said, a bit defensively, "considering it's the janitor, but he's really just... I can't even describe it. Dreamlike. Wonderful." She paused for thought. "Amazing tongue."

"Okay," Carla cut off, "that's enough of _that_ topic. It's still too new for me to be able to hear you say things like that and have it not shatter my world."

"Sorry," Elliot said sincerely. "I know what you mean. I guess for me, it'd be like hearing you talk about Ted like that." Both women cringed a bit. "Well, maybe not _Ted_..."

"Agreed," Carla said. She tapped her pen in the counter, trying to remember what she had been doing before Elliot had assaulted her with juicy details, but her memory came up short. All her brain could do was try and imagine the janitor kissing someone without soon afterward clubbing them in the head and dragging them back to his cave. "So, does this mean you... and him... are, like... you know?"

"An item? You know what, I don't even know! I haven't seen him yet, and I'm a little worried he'll just act like nothing happened again. What if he changed his mind?" Elliot's patented paranoia began seeping itself into her perfect mood. "Oh my God, Carla, what if _I_ was awful? Here I am going on and on about how great a lover he is, and what if he thought I was the worst?"

"Elliot," Carla said sternly, "you woke up and he had made you pancakes. Blueberry pancakes. And coffee. And cinnamon buns!"

"I know, I didn't even knew I had those."

"Which indicates _he went to the store to get them_," she emphasized. "Guys who just had lousy sex don't give the girl pancakes! They give them herpes!"

Elliot's eyes went wide. "Do you think I should get tested?" she squeaked.

"Maybe," Carla admitted, since she was a nurse and unprotected sex with a new partner was never a good idea. "But you're missing the point, Elliot! Look at it this way- the letter from Jane said he likes you. He came up to you in the bar, which says he likes you. You guys walked for hours just talking, which says he likes you. He took a dog bite for you! The first time you offered sex, because he thought you were drunk, he said _no_. Elliot, he introduced you to his "family" as his wife! How much clearer a picture does he have to paint? All signs point to yes on this one, why can't you just accept it?"

"I don't know," Elliot mumbled, putting her face in her hands. "You're right, completely. I shouldn't even be worrying about this. He's like, the only man I've ever been with whose made it all so easy. It's never been this easy for me before. I guess that kinda freaks me out."

"Okay, so answer this. Do you like him? I mean really? Not even considering what anyone else will think... do you like him, Elliot?"

Elliot let herself think it over for as long as it took, despite there being patients that needed her attention. This was important after all. Was David worth the fight it was going to be, waiting until JD, Turk, even Dr. Cox got over the shock? Living through all the jokes they would make? Having to let Carla get used to listening to sexy details about someone she was a bit afraid of? Would it change how he acted at the hospital? As great as the past night had been and as wonderful as he was when it was just the two of them, was it worth upsetting everyone's lives for it?

"Okay," Elliot decided, her voice quiet and resigned. "I guess that's that." She nodded at Carla, keeping a brave little smile on her face. Gathering her charts, Elliot began making her rounds.

It wasn't until almost three forty-five that Elliot came across the janitor. He was standing with his mop and bucket in the hallway in front of the elevator, and appeared to be making JD's life harder.

"Pay the fee!" he was saying to JD as Elliot approached.

"I'm not paying to use the elevator," JD retorted smartly. "There are like a hundred more in the hospital."

Janitor folded his arms. "Then go to one."

_But this one is right here,_ JD thought to himself, and pouted. "No one else has to pay to get on!" he protested.

"Not that you've seen," Janitor corrected him.

"Have they?"

"You're the first one to come by," he said smugly.

JD rolled his eyes. "I don't have any cash on me." He knew it wouldn't work, but it was worth a try.

"Too bad for you, then."

"Fine," he conceded, "how much?"

"Twenty five cents."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

Begrudgingly, JD pulled a dollar from his pocket. "Do you have change?"

"Nope."

"What? Oh, come on!" Elliot approached, looking determined. "Hey, Elliot," he said passively. "Hey, do you have a quarter?"

Janitor nodded a greeting. "Blonde doctor," he said cordially, still watching JD and waiting for his toll fee.

Elliot took in a deep breath. "Hey there, sexy," she said, her voice full of mock confidence.

JD's eyebrows lifted almost into his hairline. "Uh... hi."

"I didn't mean you," she told him, a little embarassed. "I meant David."

"David? Who the-"

"Hey," Janitor grinned triumphantly, "I guess that's me." He looked into Elliot's eyes and smiled warmly. "Afternoon, Dr. Reed."

"Elliot," she corrected.

He shook his head. "I get a power trip out of having a doctor girlfriend, actually."

Elliot giggled. _Girlfriend!_ she thought giddily. "Okay then, but only in here. I don't want to hear Dr. Reed while we're doing it."

"I'll try to restrain myself."

JD stared and stared and stared. His dear little ears could not comprehend what he was hearing. Elliot... and Janitor? Or David, or whatever she'd just said? Wait, Janitor had an actual name? "What the..." he began, but couldn't seem to finish.

The elevator dinged, and the smooth steel doors slid open. David made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand. "Your chariot," he said kindly.

Elliot grinned. "Thank you." She stepped inside, giddy and warm. This was just too magical.

David stepped in behind her, shoving out doctors and interns witrh one bowling gesture. The seven of them stumbled onto a floor they did not want, confused and annoyed. "Where to?" David asked.

"Ground floor."

As the doors slid shut, JD regained some of the perspicacity he'd lost momentarily. "Hey! That's the floor I needed!" he yelled fruitlessly. The hum of the motors told him they neither heard nor cared. "She didn't have to pay a toll," he said moodily. As JD walked toward the stairway for his long trek down, his mind flipped between two options like a coin being tossed. Where to go first- to Turk and share in the incredulity of the idea of Elliot and Janitor, or to Carla, who would probably have details?

Inside the elevator, David scooped Elliot into his arms and kissed her. Even then, she couldn't stop smiling. "I was so nervous," she admitted. "I thought maybe you'd ignore me again, or... I don't know what I thought."

"Thought about it," he admitted. "Till you called me sexy. And hey, who am I to deny the truth?"

She was so relieved she couldn't contain herself. "This is crazy," she admitted. "Is this how it's always going to be?"

"No," he told her, kissing her again. "Sometimes, there will be chocolate chip pancakes instead."

**THE END**


End file.
